Star Wars Roleplay: Chaos

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Private Transmissions Through Time



Lysander’s breath caught one more; it was as if, for once, she wasn’t the mask the rest of the galaxy knew. Instead, there was someone entirely different beneath, radiant and real. And beneath the many layers that so many judged him by, she too, was seeing the real him. Part of him was grateful too, for she met his brief moments of silence not with impatience, but kindness. The tenderness in her face bloomed like a promise where words were unneeded.

He wanted to ask her to say it again, when she agreed to come to Ruusan, as though there to fight alongside him in her own way. And when the hint of warmth stirred at the edge of her lips, a fragile softness, like a sunrise not meant for Naboo, but only for him, something reverent whispered to the acolyte. Far beyond any desires, yearning, he found himself gazing at her with something close to worship, blind that he was falling even harder in this moment, for her. His face softened, lips parted, but he stayed quiet; if one word could shatter the spell placed on him, then he was afraid. But the revelation of her own vulnerability, with that smile, that was the image he would frame and carry to the Kaggath.

Drawing back slightly, twin emeralds roamed the scene beyond her visage, the twin moons hanging, as though they were witnessing what was unfolding between them.

Somewhere in the distant past, he mused, Set and Vere might have whispered their farewells under those lunar guardians.

But Lysander, grounded, had no plans to leave. He’d already endured trials enough just to share this one holocall.

The way her collarbone rose and fell could’ve been a prayer, drawn from trust, and the subtle shift in her shoulders, like shedding armor. Since the first time they crossed paths, the blonde had always pitied her in that regard, even if she wore it well. Her voice, when stripped of the formal airs, carried a cadence that could calm the storms that raged across korriban, for already, it soothed the bruises upon his tired body. What surfaced then was a genuine smile, allowed to linger without worry, always sincere.

After, the boy’s gaze sharpened while adapting to the planet’s shadows, welcoming her deeper into his heart. The darkness behind him paled in comparison to the ache kindled by her lip-bite. His pupils dilated, not because of the late hour, but because of something more electric. A lone thumb traced the exact spot her fingers had just brushed against the datapad’s edge moments prior

There was a soft exhale through the nose, a barely noticeable twitch of the jaw; this type of reverence was only reserved for something sacred.

The next time his voice touched air, it was different. Or, it would be in a way that had noticeably changed. Rather than with a sharp edge that so often delved into quips and banter alike, there was a melodic warmth, forged during the days spent in the Badawan warehouse, pursuing a craft the Junior Representative had yet to learn of. For Lysander, he was singing to her in secret from the rhythm beneath his breath.

“I’m not going anywhere, Sibylla.”

Gaze lifting, the streets were scanned briefly, and steps would follow to bring him closer to the academy's dorms. He then saw the warning flash in the corner, a red flicker pulsing. Still, he held the datapad steady. Luckily, there was still a bit of time to savor.

Another slow breath eased from him, not out of exhaustion, but trying to find space for all the words that needed saying; words that were raw but still learned to be spoken all the same. "I'll keep talking, even when the signal is gone," he promised, tinged with a shade of desperation, a plea to simply preserve this moment, a fragile thread that connected them from the Mid to Outer Rim. "And I'll fill in the missing words.. just so I can stay close."

A ghost of a smile tugged at one corner of his mouth; this time, it was wistful. "Because I don't want to lose this version of you.. of us," he admitted. His throat bobbed, and one hand lifted, before falling to rest over his chest, as if to anchor himself in reality.

Not to be dramatic, but simply to be hers.

"I'll send what I wish I could say now," he whispered, his focus drifting towards the twin moons above once more before returning to the screen. "In fragments.. half thoughts.. all the echoes I put together during the nights I couldn’t sleep.”

If the stars allowed, perhaps they could exist like this for a few more minutes.
 


8WLOA62.png
“I’m not going anywhere, Sibylla.”

And just like that, Sibylla's whole face softened the moment the words left Lysander's mouth, smiling in a way that transformed her entirely. It was the rare kind of smile that reached her eyes first, making them gleam under the pale blue light, her soft lips curving upward to flash pearly white teeth in happiness.

"Good," she breathed out, that single syllable trembling with the weight of all the things she wasn't quite brave enough to say yet. A silence passed between them, not uncomfortable, but deep, real. The kind of silence that said everything without needing to be filled.

After a second, her hazel eyes rose back to his, and in them, one could see the exhausted vulnerability there. The kind of look she never allowed herself to wear in public. But here, in this strange little moment between two halves of a galaxy, she let herself have it.

Because, if she were honest with herself, even as they'd traded messages and passed holocomms back and forth, she'd known. Somewhere in the back of her mind, buried behind obligations and decorum, she had felt it, the thread being spun between them, the pull.

It was there every time her datapad buzzed. Every midnight message. Every moment she found herself rereading a joke or a quip he'd dared to send. Especially the poems.

He hadn't just become a friend or a voice in the dark.

He had become something more. Someone who made her laugh. Someone who made her smile. Someone who gave her that sense of excitement to converse with. Want to be with.

Was this what Veré had felt, when she found herself drawn to Set despite it all? That unshakable certainty. That quiet knowing.

The corners of her mouth curved again at his promise to keep talking, even when the signal was gone. It was foolish. Romantic. Impossible. And it made her heart twist in the best kind of way.

"I don't want to lose you... us, either," she confessed gently, pressing her lips together and biting her lower one just after, warmth rising unbidden in her cheeks. Her gaze drifted, shy and soft, before finding its way back to his bruised features.

At least until she realized what Lysander meant.

"Oh," she murmured, and a touch of regret colored her voice. He meant the poems. And her mind went straight to the ones he had sent before, the verses that had gone unanswered, not because they hadn't touched her, they had, but because she hadn't known how to respond. She'd been afraid to.

Afraid to let herself feel this much.

Yet now he'd confessed there were more. What would they contain? What would they say? So many thoughts raced through Sibylla's mind, but at the crux of it all, she knew one thing for sure -- this time, she was determined to give what Lysander sent the proper care and attention. To truly read them and what he was conveying with each line.

See what was in his heart.

"I'd like that,"
she said softly, a ghost of a smile lingering on her lips as she shifted on the bed. Outside, the moons had risen fully over Naboo. Their light streamed through the arched windows behind her, spilling silver over her bed, the folds of her gown, the strands of her loose hair.

"To be honest… I haven't slept much either." Her voice dipped with a kind of quiet self-deprecation, and her free hand rose to start playing with a tendril of her hair.

"I've been in the piano room more often than not."


She thought briefly of Cassian, and how he'd found her there earlier, playing as if it were the only way she knew how to convey what she'd been feeling. And yet, how the weight of unspoken things had made even music a burden.

"Needless to say, it's difficult to find peace in the keys when your mind refuses to still," she murmured quietly, her lids falling down to study the embroidery of her comforter before lifting back up.

"Lysander," she said, lifting the datapad slightly to match his gaze. Wanting to give him that same kind of assurance he had given her.

"Even if we lose the signal… just know that you'll still find me on the other side of it," she told him with more emotion and depth than she had before. She never wanted him to feel that he was abandoned or ignored again.

"I'm here. Always. I promise."

And it wasn't one she was making lightly.

 


Beneath the whispering sky, the thrum building in his chest wasn't fear; it was clarity, while drawing near the dormitories. The infamous crimson dust continued stirring around him. Then, there was Sibylla, with a single curve gracing her divine features that made his heart stutter in its cage. Fragile yet luminous, it was the proof he'd been yearning for, a symbol of hope. In it, the acolyte found his prayers answered.

One lone word from the figure pulsed through his ribs with a comforting ache never before known, until now, grounding him more than any meditation session. A surge of joy ran through Lysander's veins, for it was easy to recognize the sacred gift before him, being the girl from Dee'ja Peak, willing to be truly seen, unveiled. That disarmed him more than any duel he'd ever faced.

The subtle line of his mouth parted slightly like petals, caught between disbelief and the same reverence from only moments ago. There was no smirk, no bravado.. only awe. His fingers tightened once around the device, as if the very touch might preserve the softness in her hazel eyes, like blossoms nestled in the Gallo Mountains.

Perhaps, the heaviest of the words since their holocall began was 'us'. It was like a delicate bond wrapping around him.

Or so he wished.

Then the datapad’s screen dimmed; a pulse of red, the low battery icon, threatened to shatter his focus. He said nothing, instead slowing his pace, a desperate attempt that made sense in the moment, to savor whatever was left between them tonight.

This tension.. it felt real.

A soft exhale stumbled from him, his eyes briefly dipping to where her digits traced the screen, then rose again to drink in her light.. a light that gently pulled at the darkness trying to ensnare his soul.

“I like it when you forget your title," he murmured, the words like a gentle caress. "It's.. nice. I can almost believe you belong to me.” And in that same breath, Lysander began to imagine the sound of her hands on piano keys, a soft melody.

But knowing that she spent more time in that room than elsewhere, seeking escape in music, he could only burn with empathy, for he too sought sanctuary in a much similar way. He couldn't help but wonder what demons she may have been fighting.

Weariness crept into his shoulder. “I never wrote them expecting answers," he confessed. "I wrote them to survive you. Some are clumsy.. maybe one is actually beautiful. But.. all of them are yours."

Glancing up, and with a single hand, he brushed over the panel beside the dormitory. The door hissed open, inviting him in, and so he stepped forward.

"I promise," he whispered, voice heavy with warmth, "no matter the distance.. no matter the silence, I'll always find a way back to you. You are not just a ghost on the other side of this transmission, but a part of me that I carry always," he said, tapping lightly against his chest, where the Junior Representative lived. "I understand the weight of those quiet moments," he continued, his tone now a promise, "when words fail us, sometimes.. music and poetry can carry things left unspoken. But I'll keep sending those verses, not just of what I feel, but as something I want to build with you."

Faith glimmered in the bruises that marred his skin. "I don’t want you to face those hard times alone anymore.”

The battery warning pulsed again, a reminder of their limited time.

He couldn’t let this moment go without saying one final truth. Just before the holo-image vanished, his voice slipped through the fading light. "If I could reach through this barrier, I'd press my lips to yours."

Everything went dark.

"..Sibylla."

 


8WLOA62.png

Sibylla sat still the moment the screen went dark, the soft hum of the transmission cutting off with a finality that sent a sudden hush throughout her bedroom. Still, as the muted blue glow that had bathed her face now left her shrouded in moonlight. No more red dust behind him, no more bruised cheek, no more voice weighted with promises and truths too fragile to be spoken any other way.

Just silence…and the absence of him.

With a soft exhale of breath, Sibylla slowly lifted her hand, her trembling fingertips hovering over the datapad before lightly grazing the place where his image had been, as if she could trace him back into existence - - his jawline, the corner of his mouth, the eyes that had looked at her like she was something real in a galaxy full of illusions.

She swallowed hard.

The words he'd left her with burned into her like the afterimage of a sun too bright to look at.

You're not a ghost on the other side of this transmission.


All of them are yours.


I'd press my lips to yours.

Sibylla drew in a breath, one hand coming up to gently brush her knuckles across her mouth before lowering. Then, without fully thinking, only feeling, she leaned forward, pressing her soft lips onto the blank screen.

A kiss through distance, through the silence, through time.

A promise.

She then curled forward slowly, drawing the datapad into her chest like something precious, something breakable. Her forehead touched its edge as she folded in on herself, clutching it with both arms, not as a device but as a stand-in for him, for the warmth and weight of him, the ache of his absence, and the anchor of his presence.

She held it. Hugged it.

As though in that fragile grasp, she could bottle up every last syllable, every unspoken thought that passed between them like strands of fate tugged tight between stars.

Already, her fingers twitched toward the call button again, desperate to feel his voice humming through the signal just once more. To see that slow smirk, that light behind his eyes when she made him laugh. To hear his voice say her name the way he always did…like it belonged to him.

"Soon," Sibylla whispered to Lysander von Ascania Lysander von Ascania ,barely audible but her soft voice coated with longing. Ever so gently her thumb brushed over the edge of the screen.

"I'll see you on Ruusan."

And in the hush that followed, Sibylla tossed herself onto her back, sinking into a sea of soft blankets. Her eyes drifted to the pale light of Naboo's moons shining through the windows. The girl from Dee'ja Peak who had spent her life behind titles, masks, and the quiet weight of duty, closed her eyes and allowed herself to hope.

 


The acolyte cradled the tablet as if it were a Sith relic, imbued with ancient power. If it were to slip from his grasp and vanish into the ether, he feared the connection to the girl would be lost forever. The screen mocked him now, for there was temptation to charge the powercell, so that he might dive back into that shared world of theirs that’d teased him. It was a strong test of his discipline too. Rather than prepare for the next day, how easy it would have been to breathe life back into the device, to pick up their conversation where it left off, like nothing had changed. Perhaps, in truth, all that desire really meant was drinking from the well of her beauty, savoring even the quiet moments, as it surprisingly filled a void in him he hadn't known existed.

Sibylla's words lingered in his mind like an echo as he walked down the hall. Passing groups of first years draped in the purple robes of House Derriphan, he offered a simple nod of recognition. Not only were they fellow students, but customers too, woven into his quiet little empire.

His grip on the datapad never wavered, far from a casual possession, fingers twitching in desire for that lifeline; but he held form, allowing the romantic inside him to mourn.

As he entered his dorm, the cold reality set in, reminding him of the trials that awaited in just a few short hours. The morning run, the preparation for the galactic Kaggath, and all the expectations that came with it. Slacking off would not only be a betrayal to himself, but to those who believed in him and his cause.. those who'd invested their own time into his craft. And so, he meticulously laid out fresh clothes, prepped clean meals, and everything else needed to survive another day of the trial.

The next morning, he awoke earlier than usual, his mind consumed by thoughts of her. Not visualizing the pounding of his feet on vacant streets, not manifesting his success, as he often did, but instead dwelling on the memory of her real smile. The moons above that image may have been beautiful, but it was the Junior Representative who truly gave them grace.

His five kilometer run called to him as always, a call to arms for both body and mind. Throughout that journey, the teen's thoughts ran wild, scattered like sparks, fueled by verses that came naturally to the blonde.

Lysander promised he'd send her his work, all of it, even, and he would. But there was something about the fragments, born only moments ago, words he needed to fill the tender space between them.

Later, as he strode toward the counter, about to leave for what was most likely another lengthy lecture, his fingers began dancing over the datapad's screen.

Each tap was a shadow of a voice, not present, but still powerfully felt.

Whether it was another poem bleeding from the heart, or the beginning of a new song, he wasn't entirely certain. But what he did know was this.. he was capable of reciting it to her, just as he could let the words unfurl from his tongue in melody.

>> HOLO.ENCRYPT//113M-ejj--; data=ghosted; data-uplink=secure; masking-status=active; function=security; permissions=limited;]

Whispers Into Glass

I wish
I could compile all my messages
In a bottle to send you
So, you could take it
And use it
Against your sorrow
I don’t want to see you at the bottom

It’s hard for you to find something to hold on
Your spirit is aged, and you’re so young
Please
Take my hand, I’ll hold you
Grab my hand, because I need you

You don’t take enough time to appreciate yourself

P.S. I wanted something beautiful to find you today. And my name would totally be the one written in that bottle! Just in case you weren't sure!


 


Weeks had turned to eternities since his return from the Galactic Kaggath, the battle that had torn him apart and shattered every note of music that once graced his being. For a time, he banished all melodies, believing their strains would only reopen old wounds, and the silence became an ever present challenge that blurred the days together.

But curiosity lured him once again to surrender, allowing the same melodies to drift through the empty room, each note a cruel and painful reminder of what had been lost. And now, as the music cut deeper than anticipated, the agony of these memories began searing through his numbness.

Then came the moment of foolishness, lapsing into hope, his fingers finding the datapad before the mind could object.

An idiot's impulse, truly.

The screen illuminated her contact, the name glowing just under his touch.

It was a dance of denial and yearning with each stroke, fueled by a heart unprepared to let go.

>> HOLO.ENCRYPT//113M-ejj--; data=ghosted; data-uplink=secure; masking-status=active; function=security; permissions=limited;]

Sibylla Abrantes, under the twin moons,

I write these words because they beg to be released from my chest,
I am sorry for holding on longer than I should have,
I am sorry for clinging to an illusion I knew was never meant to work,
In doing so, I was selfish, and that selfishness hurt us both,
I wanted to believe, even when belief itself became a burden

I wish you joy,
Not the kind that flickers,
But the kind that endures beyond all else

I wish you strength,
Not to fight, but to rest,
Because I've seen the weight you carry,
Because I finally understand your silence

I wish you someone who sees you clearly,
And if you ever think of me,
Please let it be gently,
Let it be without sorrow

I do not regret you,
I would endure every confusion, every fracture, every sleepless night,
The Kaggath,
The wounds,
Broken on the floor,
Just to see your smile again,
Even once,
Even if it did not belong to me

There is no bitterness in me,
Only longing,
Only reverence

You were never mine,
And yet,
You remain the most intimate presence I’ve ever known

Every sunrise sharpens the ache,
A reminder that your light is finally gone from this place

I owe you an apology,
They are many,
I feared revealing how deeply I cared,
I’m sorry for every verse I sent unspoken,
I longed only to be known

I’m sorry if I caused you doubt,
I’m sorry if my pride eclipsed the gentleness I carried only for you

If the stars granted me another moment,
I would not hesitate

Until then,
I release you,
With gratitude,
And the gift you gave me,
A glimpse of something honest in a galaxy filled with lies and deceit

-Lysander von Ascania

 

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